


the names of flowers that open only once (sour and delicious, secret and unrepeatable)

by donotspeaktomeofdragonfire



Series: Teamwork (Jamilmads) [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Canon Era, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Historical, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn With Plot, Quiet Sex, Rimming, Romance, Safewords, Semi-Public Sex, Shibari, Threesome - M/M/M, do i even have to tag that y'all know what you're here for, love that tag, references to other historical figures for the plot, semi-realistic sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-11 01:57:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donotspeaktomeofdragonfire/pseuds/donotspeaktomeofdragonfire
Summary: Thomas Jefferson has invited Alexander Hamilton to spend the summer with him and James Madison, after their previous flings. The sex is expected, the romance less so.--A sequel to my Teamwork series. A historical, non-abusive Jamilmads fic. Features: a willfully oblivious Hamilton, gentle dom!Madison, a strangely competent Jefferson, and some nasty porn with light kink.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title mangled from Saying Your Names by Richard Siken.  
> I have made some Historical Adjustments for the sake of the story. Poplar Forest was built in 1826, but here it's been around for much longer. Alexander is unmarried. The decorations & layout of Monticello are based on photos and descriptions, as well as the [google street view tour (!)](https://www.google.com/maps/@38.0103297,-78.4522039,2a,75y,238.62h,79.6t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sJI_dDuOKRKE6_9HB0JXPMw!2e0!7i13312!8i6656?hl=en). In addition, I refer to the slaves at Monticello as "servants," because holy shit I am not comfortable including that particular aspect of history into my porn. Also, condoms did exist back then, but they were expensive and bad so we're just going by porn rules of "germs don't exist."  
> I originally planned to hold everything back until I'd finished it all, but these first chapters are edited as far as they'll go, so I'm releasing them. Most of the story will be porn, with mild romance plot mixed in. As this is a direct sequel to the previous two works, I'd highly recommend reading them first, for setup.  
> Thank you for all your support, comments, and kudos!!

The first heat of July 1790 finds Alexander Hamilton boarding a carriage set to take him from New York to Virginia. He’d packed light - not that he had much to begin with - and made sure to bring his books with him. Many things weighed heavy on his mind, more than enough baggage to suit him. After all, it had been only two weeks earlier that he, Jefferson, and Madison sat down to dinner and agreed on a compromise that would change the fate of their young nation for the rest of its foreseeable future, if it survived.

And all because Alexander, Thomas, and James had ended up in bed together.

No, he couldn’t think of it that way. They had remained strictly professional during the dinner, and even when Thomas had suggested it - to a nude, groggy Alexander - James had reminded them of the ethics of the situation, of the precedent it would set for letting personal interests dictate political motivations. He had to push his mind away from the memory of Thomas’ lips around his cock that morning, of James whispering praises in his ear.

But of course he couldn’t push them away for long, because, despite it all, Jefferson had invited him to be a guest at Monticello over the summer. To not just spend heated nights in Madison’s estate in upstate New York, but to genuinely spend time with the men, to eat at their table, to drink their wine and fall into bed with them at the end of a long day. It was more than daunting, it was _terrifying_.

These are the things Alexander finds himself turning over again and again in his mind as the carriage rumbles over dirt roads on the long trip down to Virginia. It’s the evening of the fourth day on the road, and exhaustion aches through his bones. He stares out the little window at the passing trees and farms, and once again has the deep burning urge in his gut to just open the door and jump out, to run from this _stupid, stupid_ decision, from all the mistakes he’s made in his life, out into the untamed West, out somewhere where no one knew his name. Just as he realizes his hand is creeping closer to the door, the driver rounds a corner and a huge brick building grows into view at the top of the hill.

Monticello.

Alexander hates to admit it, but the place is breathtaking. The sun has just started to sink low in the sky, and it casts a golden glow over the trees and glances off the white of the dome. As his carriage pulls up through the driveway, the glass front doors swing open and Jefferson steps out to greet him with a wide smile on his face, a gold-tipped cane in one hand. Madison is close behind him, hands clasped behind his back, dressed in muted grey to contrast Jefferson’s favorite maroon dress jacket. Alex sits up, moving to open his carriage door, but it pulls open from the outside. Hamilton realizes - a bit uncomfortably - that his door was being held by one of the servants that waited around the estate. It’s an opulence that he’s not used to.

He climbs out of the carriage and nods in thanks to the servant, who, along with another man, hoists his trunk out of the carriage and walks it up into the house. Alexander watches him go, blinking, before turning to his hosts.

“Hamilton!” Thomas greets him, his arms flinging out from his sides as if he wanted to go for a hug, but changed his mind at the last moment and ends up merely shaking Alexander’s hand. “I’m glad you could make it.”

James smiles warmly, holding out a hand for Alexander to shake, and Thomas nearly bounces on his heels, tapping his cane on the steps.

“Come on in, I’m sure you’re looking forward to a warm supper after your trip.” Thomas beckons him inside, and James leans over to Alex.

“He’s been wanting to show you the house,” James stage-whispers, and Jefferson laughs.

“I designed it myself,” he clarifies. “It’s my pride and joy.”

Stepping into the front hall, Alex gapes. Adorning the walls is a collection of hunting trophies, paintings, and Native artifacts, as well as a few busts on pedestals. He steps carefully over the deep green floor, listening to the echo of his footsteps as Thomas rambles on about the design and construction. He’s led through the doors on the other side of the hall, into a little foyer, where a game of chess sits half-played on a table.

“Do you play?” Thomas asks Alexander, gesturing towards the set. Hearing Alex respond in the affirmative, he nods. “James and I were just in the middle of a game when we got word your carriage was coming up the hill. We can play a bit after supper?” Though it’s phrased as a declaration, there’s a hint of hesitation in his voice that Alexander hasn’t heard before. Certainly the man must be anxious about Hamilton’s presence, and the bold move it was to invite Alexander to stay for the summer. After all, none of them have much idea of what exactly this summer will have in store for them, though Alex can’t deny he’s been fantasizing nonstop.

James speaks up. “Supper is waiting,” he reminds Thomas. “We’ve kept it covered, so it should still be warm.” Striding forward with his ridiculously long legs, Thomas moves past him, leading them through a door to their right into the dining area.

The first thing that strikes Alexander is the bright, blossoming yellow of the walls. Jefferson points out excitedly some contraptions of his own invention, such as small doors set into the side of the fireplace that allow wine to be brought up from the cellars in a modified dumbwaiter. The dining table itself is set up in a nook across the room, with open glass partitions. There’s a tantalizing smell coming from the silver cloches hiding three plates.

“I have to apologize for the casual dining.” Thomas seems a bit hesitant - of course the man would worry about the propriety and customs of the meal with no regard to the absolute _impropriety_ of Alexander’s reason for visiting. “Veal, pudding, and vegetables, from my own garden.” He pulls the silver covers off, setting them aside, and Alex nearly drools. Thomas, as the host, seats himself at the head of the table, and James takes the seat to his right, leaving Alexander to sit at Thomas’ left hand. It all seems very intimate, as close as they are. As Thomas begins to pour the wine, Alex glances up, and realizes he’s being stared down at by more marble busts from the walls. It seems as though every inch of the house is covered in art. Twisting his neck, he can make out what seems to be artists’ interpretations of several prominent men, including Washington, Franklin, and even Lafayette himself. Hamilton contemplates the amount of work it must have taken the sculptor to detail Lafayette’s curls, and, glancing back down to Jefferson, marvels at how much more it would take to pick his voluminous hair out of stone.

Thomas seems to notice Alexander staring at him, and raises his eyebrows, sipping at his glass. “Something wrong?”

Alex finds himself caught off-guard. “It’s - art,” he blurts out, which gets him startled looks from the other men. Thomas tilts his head down, staring wide-eyed at his plate.

“I’m flattered,” he mumbles, and Alex finds his face heating up. Embarrassed, he picks up his fork, digging into the food. He pretends not to notice the amused smile playing at the edges of Madison’s lips.

After a few minutes of silence, Alexander puts his fork down. “Ah,” he begins, and James startles, apparently chased out of thought. “I was wondering, Thomas, how this summer will… will work, with the house… We don’t exactly have the house to ourselves.”

At that, Thomas gives him a clever grin. “That’s because we’re not staying at Monticello.”

“We’re not?”

Thomas shakes his head, and his hair bounces against his shoulders. “In the morning we’ll be headed out to Poplar Forest. It’s a retreat of mine, just big enough for two - well, three now. We’ll have all the privacy we need.”

Alex blinks, processing the implications of Thomas’ statement. He tries to say _“You’ve done this before?”_ and _“Will we be alone?”_ and manages to mangle it into “Have you been alone?”

“Ah, no,” Thomas laughs, seemingly a bit nervous. “No, James has been there with me. Although it’ll be our first journey out there since I’ve been home.” He ducks his head, as though it’s uncomfortable to admit despite Alexander’s awareness of their relationship. Actually, Alexander begins to question what his awareness really is of James and Thomas’ relationship. What does he really know beyond their sexual encounters? How long has this been going on?

Realizing he never actually asked the questions he meant to, Alex tries again. “Will we be alone there?”

“Mostly,” Thomas clarifies. “There are some groundskeepers that will come around, but I’ve had the home stocked as best I could, so that we can sustain ourselves there on the retreat.”

“You cook?” It’s more of a shock to Alexander than the mens’ relationship status. He supposes he’d always assumed Jefferson never had to lift a finger for anything in his life.

James snorts in laughter at Thomas’ sour face. “I do cook,” Thomas defends. “It’s an important skill for anyone, man or woman.”

“Of course,” Alex nods. “I mean, I’m surprised, of course. Don’t you have servants to do everything for you?”

Both Thomas and James object to that. “Not everything!”

“Having them around means we have more time to work on business,” James explains.

“To write, to invent, to collect art,” Thomas adds, frowning. “It doesn’t mean we’re completely helpless.”

Hamilton laughs. “You doth protest too much,” he teases them. “Listen to you, trying to justify yourselves. But nevermind that,” he interrupts himself quickly. “Look, we’re not here to argue. I have no doubt it’ll happen, and I know that we all have business we still need to work on over the summer. After all, our nation doesn’t stop for the _affairs_ of a few madmen.” He emphasises the word, drawing out the innuendo, and James smiles, chuckling. “But we’re going to try our damn best, right?” He plunges into the conclusions he drew on the trip down. “The Thomas I know here is not the Jefferson I know from the Cabinet. I mean, you would never imagine Secretary Jefferson that morning two weeks ago with his -” He abruptly stops himself as Thomas raises his eyebrows and purses his lips in warning. “You see what I mean, though. And to me,” he continues, gesturing at James, “you’re not Mr. Madison of Congress, you’re James. James who thought of the washcloths, who is so damn gentle and firm at once,” he concludes, trying to be subtle in his wording. “And that’s all we need to be here.”

He’s met with a bit of a stunned silence, during which the other two nod to themselves. Thomas blinks, staring down at the table, as though he’s had some sort of revelation. James just fixes his gaze on Alexander, and if the man could visibly blush, Alex is sure he would be.

“I think,” James speaks, his voice a bit distant, “that we may have to postpone that chess game.”

Thomas’ eyebrows draw together in concern, and he touches James’ hand. “We can’t,” he whispers. “It’s too risky.”

“You say that like we haven’t done it before,” James counters, matching his low voice.

“We can wait.” Thomas sounds genuinely concerned, and Alex glances back and forth from one man to the other. “With three it’ll be too loud.”

“After _that_?” James’ eyes flick over to Alexander, then back to Thomas.

Thomas looks over as well, and Alex runs a nervous hand through his hair. It’s a bit awkward to have them discussing him in their own private language when he’s less than a foot away.

Thomas’ chest rises and he opens his lips as if to say something, then licks his lower lip thoughtfully. “Dammit,” he concludes, pushing his chair from the table and standing. James smirks at him, apparently having won their little debate. “Alexander, are you finished?”

“I can be, yes,” Alex stutters, rising. “What’s this about?”

James smiles coyly at him, standing and returning the covers to their plates. “We haven’t had the chance to show you Mr. Jefferson’s study.”

Reaching out, Thomas clutches at Alex’s elbow. “It’s - good to have you here,” he declares, and something about it seems a bit disjointed from the rest of the context, but Alexander lets it slide, because Thomas is pulling him out the door and across the main hall, with Madison close on their heels. As they reach a doorway, Thomas hesitates, turning to James and whispering furiously. “Should we use the octagonal room? It’s more concealed.”

“We’ll be fine,” James encourages quietly, nodding towards the door. Thomas purses his lips again - a nervous habit? - and pushes open the dark wooden door.

Alexander’s breath catches as he realizes where they’ve led him. He pauses for a moment, trying to make sense of the unusual room, before James puts a hand on his back and pushes him inside, closing and locking the door behind them.

The room at first appears to be a bedroom, in that there’s a bed in it, covered by a red duvet. However, the bed is set into the middle of a wall, and beyond it is an entirely separate room. A door at the end of the bed allows easier access to what appears to be a more furnished study beyond.

“What on Earth?” Alex mutters.

“It’s my own design,” Thomas explains proudly.

“Isn’t everything?” James adds under his breath, the sarcasm buffered by the obvious affection in his voice.

“See, I’ve had it built so that I can go right into my office from the bed, and yet my work space and my quarters are visually separated.” He indicates different parts of the room, starting to explain his thinking. James clears his throat, and Thomas turns back to them, interrupted from his monologue. “Ah, yes.”

With no further ado, Thomas steps in front of Alexander and leans down to kiss him, drawing him away from the door with one hand still gripping his arm. The back of Thomas’ knees bump into the bed, and he drops down onto it, breathing heavily.

“So this is what you were talking so cryptically about,” Alexander purrs into his ear.

“We’ll have to be very quiet,” James warns them, and Alex glances over to see the man pulling off his jacket and shirt. “I know that’s difficult for both of you.”

Thomas gives him a look that’s almost a pout, then turns back to Alex, pressing their mouths together. Thomas still tastes like the meal, which is interesting, but he’s definitely tasted worse. Alex licks his lips, prompting Thomas to part them and let Alex slip his tongue inside. Sliding his hands along Thomas’ torso, he tries to remove the man’s coat without looking, but it proves more challenging than it really should be. Luckily, he’s joined by another pair of hands, and James helps him divest Thomas of his jacket.

“Dinner and dessert,” Alex whispers flirtatiously, rubbing the tip of his nose against Thomas’. He feels James press up behind him, fitting himself against the curves of Alexander’s hips, and groans as he feels James’ hardness. He finds himself starting to stir as well, although it seems to be taking a little bit for his body to catch up. As James’ lips press hot against the back of Alex’s neck, he gasps into Thomas’ mouth. Bracing himself on Thomas’ shoulders, he shoves his hips backwards, letting James grind on him - and then suddenly loses his balance, falling forwards onto Thomas and pushing the other man down to the bed. Thomas lets out a grunt as Alex’s weight collapses onto him, but James seems unfazed, continuing to press his erection against him, and Alex is surprised at the heat that realization sends through his gut. Amidst grumbles from Thomas, Alex shifts so that he’s no longer crushing him, and lets out a muffled moan as he feels the wetness from James’ bare cock begin to seep into his breeches.

“Hush,” James coos softly, a thrilling contrast to the burning desire building between them.

“I might hush if you sit on my face,” Alexander shoots back. It’s not as teasing as he meant it to be, because he has to spit it out between heavy breaths, but it seems to have the intended effect. With surprising strength, James hauls Alexander off of Thomas, who whines but takes the opportunity to strip naked. James claims Alex’s mouth in turn, kissing roughly and passionately.

“You want that?” he growls. “You want me to ride you? Is that your dessert, pretty boy?”

Alex flushes unexpectedly at being called “pretty boy” and melts into the shorter man. Behind him, he hears Thomas shuffling through drawers.

“Lay on the bed.” James’ voice is warm and seductive. Obligingly, Alex moves to the bed, laying his head just below the pillows so his body remains flat. He gazes seductively at James, taking in the sight of the short, stout man with one hand on his hip.

“Come here, then,” Alex coaxes, and James chuckles at him. Thomas seems to have found the oil, and holds it out for him, but Madison waves his hand, directing him to set it on the nightstand. He leans over Alex to kiss him again.

“Alexander.” He breathes the word across Alex’s lips like he’s testing it out. “Alexander.” Alex only chuckles softly and reaches down to unlace his own breeches, and James helps him out of the rest of his clothing. There’s a tickle down around his thighs and he jumps, realizing Thomas is hovering above his cock, letting his hair dangle down against Alex’s sensitive skin.

“Come here,” Alex says again, grabbing at James’ hip and taking a handful of dark, plump flesh. James laughs at him, kneeling on the bed and turning around. At the sight, Alex feels his cock twitch, and suddenly the tip of it is embraced in the wet heat of what Alexander can only assume is Thomas’ mouth. He moans as James straddles his chest, hesitating. Alexander reaches out and grabs his thighs again, shoving the man’s rear up against his face. He smells incredible, like musk and sweat, and Alexander nuzzles up into him, flicking his tongue out experimentally.

He’s rewarded with a deep, needy moan from the man above him, and it seems to spur Thomas on as well. Using his thumbs to spread both cheeks, Alexander licks around James’ hole, lavishing spit over every inch he can reach. James begins to gasp and grind back against him.

Suddenly the suction is gone from around his member. “Remember to be quiet,” he hears Thomas chide, mocking James’ own earlier warnings. He feels James shift and his heavy breaths become muffled. It’s a bit disappointing - he would have loved to hear every sound he could coax from the generally conservative man. But, he remembers, they’ve been promised a private retreat, and they had all summer.

Alexander dives back into his task with renewed energy, pressing his tongue against the ring of muscle. Hearing a wet noise, he realizes James has begun to stroke himself, rolling his hips with each movement. Alex is so caught up in the wonderful weight of James on top of him that he barely registers Thomas returning to lick and suck at his cock, although his own hips jerk when Thomas rolls his testes in one oiled hand.

After a few minutes, during which Alex’s tongue begins to strain, James gasps. “Oh god, Alex.” He shifts, pushing off of Alex’s face. Alex watches him, confused, realizing that James is still hard, his cock dripping onto his hand. But a moment later, James turns and swings one leg across his chest again, this time pressing his thick member against Alex’s lips. Alexander obliges him, letting his mouth drop open, and clenches one thumb in a fist to distract his gag reflex. Managing to get his hands back on James’ smooth thighs, he lets his lover fuck his mouth a few times before he comes. He watches James’ face, the way it screws up tight and how he bites his lip hard - even after seeing it only a few times, it’s still an obvious tell. James shoves deep into Alexander’s throat, right up against the back of it, and floods his mouth with thick, salty liquid.

Alex’s whole body jerks, trying to keep his mouth around the cock while managing to not choke. He swallows, and though the corners of his eyes prick with tears he keeps a firm grip on James’ legs. Thomas hums around him, pinning him down and trying to keep his movements steady. Finally, James manages to push away, giving Alexander room to hoist himself up on his elbows and properly swallow, before gasping, catching his breath while stars still swim around his eyes. James’ broad hands find Alex’s hair, stroking it in soothing movements as they both watch Thomas’ head bobbing up and down.

All too soon, Alexander’s gut clenches and his eyes flutter as he comes into Thomas’ mouth. Almost as if to show off, Thomas stares up at him with one eyebrow cocked as he takes it easily, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly as he sucks the last drops out of him.

“God damn,” Alexander pants, threading his fingers through Thomas’ curls and stroking his cheek with his thumb. He doesn’t quite know why he does, they don’t often share tender gestures as easily or frequently as James likes to. But it gets him a soft moan anyways, as Thomas pulls off of him, licking up the saliva that drips from his mouth. James hands Alexander the oil, retrieved from wherever Jefferson had left it, and Alex sits up, letting a few drops pool in his hand as Thomas raises up to meet him.

Jefferson smirks in his face, his pupils blown, almost hiding his brown eyes. “You gon’ help me out here?” he drawls, then clears his throat.

“Should I?” Hamilton whispers back teasingly, wrapping his oil-slicked hand around Thomas’ girth. He clutches Thomas’ arm, bracing them together as his hand moves, twisting around the shaft and pressing around the head with his thumb. It doesn’t take long before Thomas is coming over his hand, spilling onto Alex’s stomach with a deep, rumbling groan.

He doesn’t notice James’ absence until he’s being prodded in the arm with a cold bottle. Blinking, he turns and takes it, letting Thomas peel away from him.

“To wash the taste away.” James smiles down at him, looking like he’s still having difficulty getting his breathing back in control. Alex smiles back, weakly, and tips the bottle into his mouth. It’ll be good to wash down the myriad of flavors still playing around his tongue: of supper, of James’ ass and cum. They’re all drowned out by the sweet acid of the red wine as he swirls it in his mouth, swallowing with some difficulty. His jaw still aches.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Thomas asks, and Alex glances over to see the man washing up.

“Me?” Alexander asks, confused.

Thomas blinks, seeming to realize the strange nature of his own question. “Madison generally sleeps in his own guest room, across the house. We have some rooms upstairs for visitors, but I’m assuming - well, not to be presumptuous, but I’d assume you’d want to stay close.” He smiles and winks flirtatiously.

“Alexander can sleep with me,” James offers. “There’s a sofa in my room, it would be more plausible that he uses that rather than us three staying here for the night.” Thomas nods at that, seeming to agree.

It’s a bit disappointing, Alexander realizes, that they can’t sleep all together as they have in the past. But of course, at Madison’s home in upstate New York, there were few rooms and only one or two attendants, whereas here at Monticello they had to be more subtle. Of course Jefferson wouldn’t allow two friends to sleep in his room when there were plenty of guest beds to be had.

They clean themselves up at Thomas’ washbasin, and Thomas lights a fire, filling the room with warmth. Alexander is grateful for it after the cold of the water, and watches goose-bumps play over his own skin as James pulls up chairs for them and wraps a blanket around him. The gesture is comforting, and Alex clutches the rough wool of the blanket. Throwing on a nightshirt and a green silk banyan, Thomas whisks out of the room and returns balancing a chessboard, which he places on an end table and pulls towards them. James laughs. Borrowing another robe, he steps out of the room, telling the two men he’s going to go dress for bed and promising to bring Alexander’s things.

“Will you play?” Thomas asks, seating himself across from the still shivering Alex. He feels a bit silly, still being completely nude, but nods. Thomas offers him the white side, giving him the advantage.

They’re almost halfway through their game when James returns, apologizing for his lateness. Alex notices that he’s changed into a different robe, likely his own, a more muted dark grey as tends to be the man’s fashion. “They’d left your things in the entry hall,” he explains to Alexander, holding out a bundle of folded clothing. “I had them bring the trunk to my room, and I’m glad they didn’t ask questions, because I’m not sure what I would have said.” Alex takes the clothing, dropping the blanket back on the chair. The room has warmed well enough, but the sudden exposure to the air sends tingles up his arms again. He turns away, slipping into his own nightshirt and returning to their game. James is leaning over the board, contemplating, but only raises an eyebrow at Alex and pulls up a chair so he can watch them.

They pass the rest of the evening that way, in gentle ribbing and competition, each man playing the winner. Alex finds he enjoys watching Thomas’ face fall into a frustrated scowl as he realizes Alexander inching closer to a checkmate, and Alex crows in triumph when he knocks over the man’s king. James is a more shrewd player, castling and protecting his queen better than Jefferson had, but Alexander’s offensive strategy proves successful in the long run - until just when Hamilton is gloating, thinking he’s got the man cornered, Madison declares “Check.” It’s a fierce battle after that, and the wine flows freely, leading Alexander and Thomas to become louder and louder in their arguments over the game. Despite Hamilton’s protests, however, James continues to circle his king until they’re left in a true stalemate. Thomas stands and declares that no master chess player would reach a stalemate, before throwing the wine in the fire to douse it and announcing that it was high time for bed. Alex and James only burst out laughing at him. Alex chokes back tears as he rises, grinning from ear-to-ear.

James leads him back across the hall and through a door that opens into a smaller hallway, which James explains is directly adjacent to the dining hall. He shows Alex into an octagonal room, which already has a fire going, warming it. They wouldn’t need fires for much longer this summer, but it helped to beat off the chill of the night air.

Pecking him chastely on the lips, James moves to the bed, which is set into a nook in the wall, and turns down the covers. He removes his banyan and hangs it up, then beckons Alexander over with a gentle “Come on,” slipping into bed. Alex follows, yawning, and tucks himself up against the shorter man. At least it’s something, he tells himself, though he can’t help but feel a bit bad thinking about Thomas left alone in his room across the hall. He’ll make it up to him. After all, they have the whole summer ahead of them.


	2. Chapter 2

When Alexander wakes, the bed is still warm, but James is gone. The fire has long since died away, and warm morning light streams in through the curtains. He stumbles out of bed and catches a whiff of something tasty in the air. Dressing quickly, he peeks out the door, ensuring that he’s not spotted, and slips into the dining room. The bright yellow accosts his eyes, and he blinks blearily in the light.

“Good morning,” Thomas greets with a chipper smile. It looks as though Thomas and James have been up for a while, taking breakfast in the tea nook. James blows over a cup of tea and sips at it.

Alex starts to respond, then startles himself with a yawn that makes the other men laugh.

“Alexander, it’s half past nine,” James chides, smiling. “Did we wear you out?”

“Can’t keep up with two old men?” Thomas rises, moving across the room to the fireplace, where the delicious smell is coming from a pot on a hook. “I kept your breakfast warm. I should have known you didn’t have the manners to wake up at a decent time.” Dishing out a ladleful of porridge into a bowl, he hands it over to Alexander. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“I’ll tell you where you can shove your manners,” Alex mumbles, but accepts the dish thankfully. He seats himself at the table. “Why the hell do you have these busts anyways? I feel like they’re judging me.” He eyes the face of Washington. It bears only a vague resemblance to the man.

Madison chuckles before taking his own bowl over to the pot. “That sounds like a psychological projection.”

Thomas purses his lips, almost looking offended. “They’re people I greatly admire. I take my inspiration from them.”

“But do they really have to be looking over us as we eat?” He stares down the bust of Lafayette, missing his friend. For a moment, he wants to send a letter off to the Frenchman, telling him everything, wondering what his advice would be. He thinks better of it. In an ideal world, maybe, but this was something to be kept a closely-guarded secret.

 

After a fairly congenial breakfast, Thomas announces that his and Madison’s trunks are already packed for the trip, and that he’ll have Hamilton’s brought out as soon as he’s ready.

“It’s a bit of a long journey,” Thomas explains to Alex. “I know you’ve just had a trip down here, but at least you won’t be alone this time.”

“How long will it take? I’ve got books to pass the time.”

“About three days. We can stop at a few inns along the way, but I’d like to keep up a good pace.”

Alex tried to keep the sour look from his face. He’d already had to sit through a bumpy, nauseating four days of travelling, and had been looking forward to a rest.

James seems to sense his frustration, putting a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s much easier with company, I assure you.”

 

They bundle onto the landau just before noon, rather late to start such a journey, but Thomas reminds him it’s his own fault for waking so late in the morning. Since it’s a warm July day, the top is unfolded, giving them the warmth of the sun as well as the fresh air. As they end up situated, Thomas and James face backwards from the front of the carriage, and Alexander holds a box of books on the empty seat next to him. Turning, Thomas signals to the driver, who rides in the position of postilion on one of the leading horses, and they start off with a jerk.

Over the sounds of trotting hooves and the jangling harness, Jefferson begins an impromptu tour of the surrounding lands, pointing out the names of trees and flowers as they pass. While Hamilton doesn’t have the same interest in botany as the other two seem to, he finds it nice to listen to Thomas’ enthusiastic voice. He’s never had the chance to hear to the man speak so passionately on anything other than politics. It’s a nice change. Thomas even suggests the idea of employing men to explore as far west as possible, beyond the mountains. Alexander adds that whoever made the trip should be sure to know the native language, so as to more easily trade and make agreements for passage.

A few hours into the trip, and several arguments later, Madison suggests a reading. From his books, Alexander selects _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ , which Jefferson declares he’s already read, but they take turns reading passages anyways. It’s an easy way to pass the time, although they get off on frequent tangents and arguments, comparing the state of modern politics to those in the book.

“Carter’s Bridge,” Thomas points out, interrupting a particularly contested passage. “Ten miles in.”

“Out of?”

“Ninety-three.”

Alexander rolls his eyes and returns to the book.

 

The summer sun lingers in the sky, and Alex has only begun to squint at the words on the page when Madison looks up at their surroundings.

“Warren!”

Alex glances up, startled.

“We’ll be spending the night here,” Thomas explains, laughing and handing Alexander a slip of paper to mark their page with. “Wilson Nicholas from the House of Delegates has a home here in Warren, and we tend to stop here for the first leg of our trip.”

Nodding, Alexander wonders again just how often Jefferson and Madison did this sort of thing together. “A democratic-republican,” he notes wryly. “Will he even let me in his house?”

“You may have to sleep in the stable.” James deadpans, disembarking, and a light streams across the street as the door to the house opens.

“Gentlemen! Good evening!” Nicholas calls, sounding pleased to see them. “Who have you brought with you?”

“A friend,” is Thomas’ reply. He holds out a hand, obviously intending to help Alex down from the carriage. Alex only frowns at him and steps down by himself.

“Hamilton?” Alex blinks, squinting as a lantern is shined in his face. “What brings you here?”

Hamilton sputters. “Only business,” he answers lamely. Nicholas looks to Jefferson with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s my guest,” Thomas insists, and Nicholas shrugs, leading the trio inside. Alex catches a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror, realizing that the wind from the carriage had swept his hair into a wild mane. Absently, he runs a hand over it, trying to smooth it down. Madison steps up behind him, pulling a comb from his coat pocket. Rather than handing it to Alexander, though, he raises it and swipes it gently through Alex’s hair, re-doing his queue into something a bit more dignified.

“Supper is ready,” he hears Nicholas call from down the hall, and Madison quickly returns the comb to his pocket. Alex turns to him, but the man’s face is placid, unreadable. James strides off down the hall and Alexander tails along behind him.

They arrive at a dining room, and Alex realizes there’s five plates set already.

“Thomas wrote me beforehand and told me to expect an additional guest,” Nicholas explains, “but this is certainly unexpected. Not that it’s not an honor, of course, Mister Secretary,” he adds quickly, and Jefferson stifles a laugh.

“Of course, it’s good to meet you.” Hamilton feels a bit stiff, but takes his place at the table. Nicholas’ wife joins them, and the men elaborate on the ideas brought up during their journey. Jefferson, Madison, and Nicholas steer the conversation towards Virginian affairs, catching up after having been apart for so long. While Alexander has little interest in the local talk, his mind stays with the men. James and Thomas had mentioned spending time at Poplar Forest before - but Thomas had only just returned from France the previous fall. How long had their relationship been going on? Those nights Hamilton and Madison had worked so closely in drafting the Federalist papers and other political essays, was James’ mind fraught with the separation from his lover? He had known they were close, but the new revelations shed a very different light on their partnership.

Alexander is not used to staying silent for long. He finds a way to interject with his own political opinions, and soon they’re involved in a rowdy debate. It’s an easy conversation, a subject he’s familiar with, and by the time their brandy is served Hamilton has already burst into a long monologue about the merits of national credit. Though they’d agreed to the establishment of the bank, he’s still not sure they _fully_ appreciate it.

“I’m saying, it’s enumerated in the Constitution, James, you should agree -”

“Hamilton, I’ve already had to hear this argument what feels like a hundred goddamn times,” Thomas interrupts him, raising a hand. “Wilson, do you have the guest rooms ready?”

Nicholas hesitates from his chair, tipping his glass in his hand. “I only have the two rooms, unfortunately, you may have to share.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Thomas smiles. “We’ll let our guest have the room to himself, and Madison and I will tough it out.”

Alex tries to throw Thomas a subtle look of confusion and offense, but the man ignores him.

“Of course, sir, my apologies again,” Nicholas nods. “I will have your trunks brought up, if you would show Secretary Hamilton to the guest rooms?”

 

Thomas leads Alexander upstairs, indicating the master bedroom as well as the two guest rooms. “James and I will take the room furthest from the master, on this end.”

Alex leans in towards the men. “Have I done something wrong, sir?” he asks quietly.

Jefferson seems amused at the formal address. “Not at all. There’s two rooms, it’s the easiest way to divide them up.”

Alexander is about to respond when footsteps sound on the stairs. He snaps back to a respectable distance. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance to confront Thomas or James again before they have to head off to their respective rooms. Thomas says good night with a nod and a smile, but Alex only scowls at him before closing the door in his face.

 

He pulls on his cotton nightshirt and lights a candle, writing at the little desk in the guest room for a while. It’s cold and lonely compared to how he spent his last evening, but at least he’s full and tired after the long day. Sipping at the nightcap of whiskey he’d been provided, Alex thinks of just sneaking over to the adjacent room where his lovers waited. Would they already be asleep, or maybe in an embrace of their own, without him? Though he understands why Thomas must have made the decision of their sleeping arrangements, he has to admit it stings unexpectedly.

Alexander jumps at the sound of a rap on the wall. Two sharp knocks ring through the room, then pause, then again, another two. Rising, he approaches the wall, realizing the signal is coming from the other guest room. At another knock, he raises his own hand, tapping his knuckles twice against the wood. Three taps respond.

Huffing out his candle, Alex practically runs out of the room, keeping his footsteps light. He has to fling a hand out to avoid bumping into things in the unfamiliar house, but he follows the flickering stream of candlelight coming from below the door of Thomas and James’ shared room. His hand lands on the door handle and he pushes it open.

James is laying on the bed in his nightshirt, his book on his chest, likely just having put it down. Thomas, on the other hand, is leaning against the writing desk, which sits flush with their shared wall.

“Alexander!” Thomas whispers, smiling. “I’d worried you’d gone to bed.”

Shutting the door behind him, Alex eyes Thomas apprehensively. “And this was your plan?”

“The same system James and I devised ourselves.” He looks almost a bit smug. “You picked it up quick.”

“Do you often fuck in stranger’s houses?”

James snorts, then claps a hand over his mouth.

“Of course not,” Thomas hisses, glancing over to James. “We… like to spend time together.”

Setting his book aside, James pats the bed next to him. “Thomas will wake you before dawn, if you want to sleep here.”

“I have a great internal clock,” Thomas drawls. Alex grins at him before moving over to join James on the bed. As he crawls onto the mattress, Alex makes sure he bends in a way that makes his nightshirt ride up on his hips.

“You’re such a tease,” Thomas whispers, drawing close to them. Alex flips over, fitting himself beneath James’ arm, and raises one eyebrow at Thomas flirtatiously. He can almost see the wheels turning in Thomas’ mind, weighing the risks against the temptation. A few moments later, Thomas seems to have made a decision. He pads over to one of the black trunks and opens it, holding the lid so it won’t thump against the wall. Hearing the sound of glass clinking together, Alexander finds himself blushing, turning his head towards James. Being so close, he can nuzzle his nose into the man’s armpit, drinking in the smell of him and practically streaking sweat across his face.

The mattress shifts and Alex looks up to see Thomas crawling towards him, a bottle of oil clutched in one hand.

“Thomas,” James warns, the concern evident in his voice. Thomas ignores him, instead using his free hand to push one of Alex’s knees aside. The movement lifts the short skirt, exposing him, and Alexander swallows, a rush of heat rolling down his spine. Thomas eyes his semi-erect cock before leaning over to kiss him.

“You’ve been thirsty for it,” Thomas purrs in his ear. “Better be quiet.”

Alexander doesn’t think he can keep quiet. Even his heart is thumping loud enough to betray them. But James, thinking quickly, tugs Alex closer to him and shoves the side of his hand in Alex’s mouth as a makeshift gag. Alex tries not to bite down on it, and ends up drooling quite a bit.

Thomas dips two fingers into the neck of the bottle, tilting it to coat them with liquid. Alex shifts, tilting his hips so Thomas can reach him more easily. Handing the bottle off to James, Thomas touches one slick finger to Alexander’s anus.

Gasping, Alex jerks at the unexpected cold, and James’ other arm comes around, nearly pinning him down. Alexander’s teeth graze James’ hand as Thomas runs a torturous finger around the clenching hole. Thomas hushes him, leaning in to nip at his ear as he works one finger inside him.

“Much as I’d love to give you what you need, that will have to wait.” Breath tickles across Alexander’s ear and he clutches at James’ arm. Sliding a second finger in - embarrassingly easily, Alex thinks - Thomas crooks his fingers, massaging inside of him. It’s a feeling he’s still not used to, of things _moving_ inside of him, but Thomas’ fingers brush against his prostate and he kicks out, wrapping one leg around the other man. It’s almost as if his body’s trying to bring them closer, even while part of his brain is thinking _out, out, out_. He moans, exhaling hard, and James grips his jaw tighter, trying to stifle the noise. Hell, if they weren’t going to fuck him, why even use the oil?

James’ voice is in his ear and it’s too intimate, too close. “I wonder if you could come just like this, with his fingers inside you?”

Fuck. Come to think of it, he probably could. It almost sounded like a challenge.

In response, Alex tries to shove down on Thomas’ teasing fingers. Trapped between the both of them, though, he can’t get much leverage. He pushes back against James’ solid body, and James, with both arms wrapped around him, makes little soothing noises that have Alex’s eyes rolling back in his head. He can feel the spittle drying on his chin from where James’ hand is still shoved half in his mouth.

Thomas continues pressing into him, far too slowly, and every time the rough pads of his fingers drag across that one spot it sends another jolt of heat through his body. His cock is dripping onto his stomach, the muscle jerking from stimulation, but he’s missing that _something_ to take him over the edge.

Alexander grabs James’ hand, wrenching it out of his mouth. “Please, come on, fuck, I need more,” he pants. Surging forward, Thomas presses a rough, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Alex meets it, taking Thomas’ tongue into his mouth. Despite his protests, the fingers inside him don’t speed up. Thomas fingers him open, folding him nearly in half to reach as deep as he can. Alexander only responds in moans. To silence him, James’ hand returns to his mouth, this time shoving his fingers inside and gripping at his jaw.

He’s forced to stay on the edge for another few minutes while Thomas continues his gentle pace.

“Such a sweet little hole,” Thomas can’t help whispering to him. Alex makes a face.

James hums in agreement. “Good boy. Thomas…” He shoots the man a look, but Alexander is too trapped and too far gone to see it. His vision swims in the low candlelight, and Thomas’ hanging hair seems to act as curtains around them, blocking out the outside world. They could almost forget the need for silence, if it didn’t make everything so much more intense. Alexander is almost to the point where he’ll scream for it, damn anyone who hears.

Luckily, Thomas does see James’ look. He finally speeds up, thrusting his fingers into Alexander’s ass and angling his fingers to hit his prostate nearly every time. Alex thrashes against him, but James’ arms are there, holding him in place.

“Can you come on just his fingers?” James murmurs, sounding almost intoxicated on the idea. Alex groans, taking a quick personal inventory - and shakes his head frantically. He can’t, as much as he wants to, his cock is still bobbing against his stomach and leaking readily, just one tug would do it -

Thomas’ long, slender fingers wrap around his cock and pump roughly, twice, before Alex has to bite down hard on James’ hand to silence the shout that forces its way up out of him. James makes soothing, cooing noises, nuzzling his nose into Alex’s hair. Thomas thrusts a few more times, and Alexander’s head falls back, almost resigned to his fate of having to feel the slick push-and-pull of Thomas’ fingers until it kills him.

The man is not without mercy, however, and soon drags his fingers slowly back out of Alex’s ass. Alexander is still trying to keep his eyes open, but he knows that both of his partners are still hard. He’s shoved up against James at an angle that means he can’t comfortably reach the man’s cock to stroke him off. Just as Alex is trying to figure out how to manage it, Thomas climbs over and straddles James, his leg knocking against Alexander’s side. James slides his hand out of Alex’s mouth - Alex had barely noticed he was still drooling around them - and wraps his free arm around Thomas’ back, leaving one behind Alex’s shoulders. Tilting his head up, Alex can see Thomas’ face, eyes half-lidded, looking very pleased with himself, but he does not meet Alexander’s gaze.

“What do you think?” Thomas’ voice is deep and rough, rumbling through his chest.

“Wonderful,” James answers him, before holding out his hand for Thomas to pass him the oil. He pours a generous amount into his palm, clutching both of their cocks together and jerking quickly.

Thomas’ face screws up, and Alex can see his jaw working to keep his teeth clenched, swallowing back every noise. Thomas rocks against James, fucking into his hand, hands braced against the shorter man’s shoulders. It takes only a few minutes before James comes, with Thomas soon after. Alexander is so drowsy from the combination of the long day, the nightcap, and the exercise that he only manages to keep his eyes open long enough to watch them melt into each other before he’s asleep.

 

It seems like he’s barely gotten a nap before someone is rudely nudging him awake. “Alexander!” Whoever it is seems frantic. He cracks his eyes open and realizes he can’t see anything. It’s not even _dawn?_ He groans.

“Alexander, you have to go back to your room,” Thomas whispers, shaking his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“We can’t be caught here. Alex.”

The sound of his name on Thomas’ tongue is nice, and it takes a few moments for the man’s warning to register. Alexander’s eyes fly open. “Shit! What time is it?” He tries to sit up, pushing James’ arm off of him. The man was, apparently, still asleep, and snoring heartily.

“Just before dawn,” Thomas tells him. “Quick, you have to get back to your room. I’ll take you if you need it.”

“No, I think I can make it.” Alex coughs, clearing the drowsiness from his voice. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” There’s a brush of hair against his cheek, and Thomas’ lips land on the side of his temple, a little awkwardly in the darkness. He feels Thomas’ hand fumbling around, accidentally brushing Alex’s softened cock before catching his hand. “Come on.” Tugging Alex up, Thomas leads him, stumbling, out the door of the guest room. It’s clear that Jefferson knows his way around the house fairly well, and he guides Alexander to the other room. They bump into the bed, and Alex hears the rustling of sheets before he’s being bundled roughly into it.

“Just go back to sleep for a while,” Thomas tells him, aiming another kiss at him that bumps their noses together.

“Ow,” Alex laughs, before reaching his hand up. It’s strange, exploring into the darkness, but his fingers find the familiar tangles and he runs a hand along Thomas’ sharp cheekbone. In the silence he hears the taller man’s heavy breaths. His hand slides down to the ridge of Thomas’ jawline, his thumb stroking along smooth, broad lips. Grabbing Alex’s wrist, Thomas places a tender peck to the pad of his thumb before placing Alex’s hand back on the bed.

“Get some sleep,” Thomas insists again, but there’s a note of fondness in it. Alex is asleep again before he can process it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, there's a real person. This chapter is directly based on [the actual trip from Monticello to Poplar Forest!](https://www.monticello.org/site/research-and-collections/route-poplar-forest)


	3. Chapter 3

“My god, finally!” Alexander crows, nearly jumping out of the carriage before they’re entirely stopped in front of the Poplar Forest retreat. Everything about the design smacks of Jefferson - the white trim against red brick, the thick Grecian columns on the portico. While still a distinct silhouette against the trees, the home is much smaller and distinctly less grand than Monticello had been. Thomas only chuckles and sighs as he dismounts.

“Come on now, help our driver get these trunks inside so he can head back into town,” Thomas calls to Alex, who has bounded halfway up the steps with a vigor reserved for those truly exhausted from travelling. “I’ll get a meal started, there should be some salt meat in the pantry.”

Alexander returns to the carriage reluctantly. As James is too weak to carry the heavy trunks, Alex ends up doing most of the work alongside the servant. Thomas indicates that they should just leave all the luggage in one bedroom, and they’d “sort it out later.”

By the time they’ve settled in and sent the servant on his way, a fire is roaring in the basement kitchen, and the smell of stew wafts up to the main floor. The light of late afternoon shines in through the windows, dust dancing in the golden light. James and Alex have set themselves to making the place more livable - though it’s been maintained during Jefferson’s absence, it’s clear no one has stayed here in several years.

“I’m going to change, I think,” James announces, fitting Alexander’s books onto the bookshelf alongside their own. “It will be nice to wear some casual clothing around here.”

“How casual do you intend to be?” Alex winks, and rummages around in his own trunk for a pair of worker’s trousers to replace the tight breeches. He considers simply changing into a light robe, but it’s still early and they may have time to explore the grounds.

James laughs. “As casual as I’d like,” he shoots back, catching the innuendo. Removing his coat and hanging it over the back of an armchair, he proceeds to strip naked, still laughing.

“Free as a bluebird,” Alexander chuckles, a little startled at how easily they’ve fallen into such a nonchalant relationship. “Shall I join you?” He leans over to unbutton the knees of his breeches and receives a hearty slap on the ass. He stumbles forward a bit, as he’s not expecting it, and huffs.

“There’s more where that came from,” James teases. Standing, Alex turns to look at the man, bathed in light from the window. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that first time.” As his voice suddenly drops into a low purr, he steps close to Alexander, settling his hands on Alex’s bony hips. “How you begged for me to hit you, and how easily you came from it. I’ve been dying to figure out just how far that will go.”

Alex licks his lips, resting his forehead against James’ and sliding his arms around the shorter man’s shoulders. His mouth is suddenly rather dry. “Yeah?”

“You know, Thomas never lets me hit him like that.”

Alex snorts. “He doesn’t have enough padding.”

“I’m being insulted behind my back.” Thomas’ sarcastic voice startles them away from each other instinctively, before they can register the lack of a threat. “I make a good supper, and this is my thanks?”

“Maybe we should give you a double portion,” Alex says, as if he himself didn’t forget to eat far too often. A “hunger-pang frame,” one woman had told him, years ago. Grinning, Alex remembers suddenly that he was going to change into trousers, and he unbuttons his breeches the rest of the way, dropping them. Thomas turns away from the doorway, rolling his eyes.

“Oh yes, that’s exactly what I want to see before I eat. And you, James, I thought you had more class than that.”

James lets out a loud _ha!_ and puts one hand on his hip before shaking his head and turning back to their trunks to retrieve a pair of pants.

“It’s kind of a waste of clothing if we’re just going to take it all off again anyways,” Alex muses, but is soon distracted by the delicious smell of the stew Jefferson is setting out on the table. As every room in the home opens into the central dining room, they can carry on a conversation quite easily no matter where they’re at. The two men dress quickly and join their friend at the dining table.

Jefferson is definitely a better cook than Alexander would have given him credit for. The stew is light enough for a supper, but much warmer and more filling than anything they’d had on the road. A good thing, too, as Alex has had enough cold porridge to last him a lifetime. Having a meal here is much more comfortable than it had been at Monticello, where the stuffy atmosphere of fine art had rather ruined his appetite. While still elegantly designed, the whole Poplar Forest building had more of a cabin-like feel to it, more suited for the cozy living quarters of three men. Stupidly, Alexander asks about Thomas’ reasonings behind the octagonal structure, which leads to a drawn-out discussion on the benefits of each architectural feature, including the skylight above them and the temperature considerations of the grand porch.  The combination of the long journey, as well as the warm meal and listening to Thomas expound passionately, was clouding his mind and making him drowsy.

Madison must have seen Alexander’s eyes drooping as their bowls sat empty in front of them, because he clears his throat and abruptly silences Thomas, who pauses with his hand in midair.

“Thomas,” James begins, a hidden smile playing around his eyes. “Would you go to my trunk and grab a length of rope?”

Thomas’ eyes widen, his hand dropping. “D’you mean… Damn. Alright.” With barely a moment’s hesitation, he jogs into the adjoining bedroom. Now more awake and curious, Alexander looks at James with a quirked eyebrow.

“Rope?”

James only raises the glass of red wine to his lips and smiles coyly. Alex can hear Thomas searching through James’ things, as well as the shuffling of fabric.

“So are we not going to let our stomachs settle after supper?” Thomas calls from the other room. “I mean, damned if I’m complaining, but really…” He emerges clad in only a purple silk banyan, a length of smooth rope draped over his arm.

Alex watches James’ face as the man seems to be considering several options. “Alright,” he agrees, nodding. “Drop your robe.”

Thomas looks a bit startled, but obeys. The rich fabric pools on the floor around his feet. “I thought…?”

Rising, James takes the rope from Thomas. Alexander takes the opportunity to gaze at the tall man in the light - their only trysts before had been in candlelight, and there’s something about seeing him naked in such an exposed setting that stirs Alexander’s interest. James proceeds to wrap the smooth rope around Thomas’ middle, looping it around his limbs and tucking it in interesting ways.

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve had the opportunity to do this,” Madison purrs, “but I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I’ve had the time to plan.”

Thomas gulps, allowing James to manipulate him until he’s thoroughly harnessed. “An interesting setup,” he says, stretching his arms out, “but I’m not exactly restricted.”

As James steps back to admire his handiwork, he reveals the full picture to Alexander, who suddenly finds his breath caught in his chest.

Jefferson is fully wrapped in the soft white rope - undyed cotton, by the looks of it, as rough fibers would chafe too much on the delicate skin where it loops between his legs, framing his hips. Though he doesn’t look desperate yet, Thomas is very obviously hard, and that’s when Alex notices another detail: one part of the rope is wrapped around his cock and balls, not so tight that it could be damaging, but it must be uncomfortable. Up Thomas’ chest are a series of loops where the rope crossed behind his back, only to cross over itself in front. To Alexander, it seems mostly decorative, although who knows what James has planned?

“Beautiful,” James sighs, rising onto his toes to give Thomas a peck on the cheek, and Alexander has to agree. “You’re not restricted yet, because you asked for us to wait a while. So you’ll stay like that until we’re ready.” He clearly indicates Alex in the “we” statement, which startles him out of his admiration.

“Until you’re ready for me,” Thomas chuckles. “Whatever shall I do?”

James starts to speak, then clears his throat, trying to hide the fact that it’s affecting him just as much as the other two. His voice is steady as he lays out the plan. “Alexander and I set the armchairs up next to the fire in the bedroom,” he explains. “You can kneel there and wait.” James’ eyes glance over to Alex, a slight hint of hesitation in his eyes. Alex nods, encouraging him. “Alexander…”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to fuck you.” As he says it, his eyes drop momentarily to the floor, but he seems to regain his confidence quickly. “Thomas can watch.”

“So - wait,” Thomas interrupts. “Did I get all tied up for nothing? So you two can go off and do your own thing?”

James frowns sternly at the taller man. “I haven’t had the chance to hear you beg for a while,” he insists cooly. “I had this thought: you, tied hand and foot on the floor, and Alexander on my lap in the chair. I think you’d rather like it.”

“Rather,” Thomas croaks, his usual eloquence stumped by James’ lewd tongue.

Alexander swallows, glad he’d changed into looser trousers, as he was definitely up for the occasion. He starts to cross his legs, but thinks better of it, instead letting his knees fall apart, stretching the cloth and revealing to the others just what he thought of the scheme.

“I think, personally, I’d like that very much.” He tilts his head, meeting Thomas with a half-lidded gaze as he strokes his hand along the inside of his thigh.

Smiling, James wraps his fingers around one of the loops of Thomas’ makeshift harness. “Alexander hasn’t seen just _how_ _good_ you can be for me,” he purrs, tugging the man forward. It’s clear that, while it doesn’t restrict his movements much, the rope definitely gives James leverage to guide the bigger man where he wants him. Walking backwards, James leads Thomas into the room they’d set up before, pushing him down to kneel in front of the fireplace, facing the two chairs. Alex can see Thomas shiver, from excitement or the cooling evening air. James himself throws off the light shirt he’d put on as well as his trousers, and Alex eagerly sheds his own clothing. He manages to refrain from saying “I told you so.”

Crouching next to Thomas, James takes the man’s chin in one hand. “Eyes on me,” he reminds him. “I can tell when your mind is ticking. I want all your attention.”

“You have it,” Thomas whispers, his eyes locked onto James’ face. Alexander finds himself turning his head away at the private moment. Soon enough, though, his attention is brought back to them, as James strings a new line of rope through the pale cotton loops, tying Thomas’ hands to his ankles and securely fastening them. It’s skillful work, and Alexander tries to imagine what it would be like to be immobilized so completely. He decides with a shudder that even the thought of it makes him itch. He’d much prefer to turn his mind to his own promise - that he’d be able to ride James’ thick cock. He’s wanted it since the moment he laid eyes on it for the first time. It’s not as big as Thomas’, he knows, so it should be easier to take, but the new angle may present a challenge.

Suddenly James is in front of him, looking up into his eyes. “You too. You’re overthinking things again.”

Alexander has to laugh at that. “James Madison, accusing _me_ of overthinking.”

Reaching up, James runs a soft hand along Alex’s neck, which he unconsciously finds himself leaning into. Even just the simple touch has him melting, his mind clearing as he absorbs James’ quiet confidence. It’s very clear the man has them both absolutely whipped, Alex chuckles to himself.

James turns away from him then, making for one of the armchairs, but Alex grabs his waist from behind, stopping him in his tracks. He presses up against the short man’s back, nestling his nose into the curls and leaning down to lay hot kisses along his neck. James tilts his head, catching Alex’s hands in his own and shoving his hips back against Alex. Since they’re fully nude, Alex’s cock grinds against Madison’s plush rear, and his breathing stutters and catches in his throat. Sliding his hands around to James’ front, he takes the time to run his hands across the man’s body: holding one hand against his chest to hear the rattled breaths from his frequent illnesses, pressing and grabbing at the slight pudge around his middle, and running his hands down to feel the thick thighs dotted with stubble, before finally brushing his hand against the meaty cock hanging proudly between his legs.

“I want you,” James whispers to him, and Alexander hums in agreement, though he’s reluctant to let him go. The press of skin-on-skin is too intoxicating, the heat burning between them goes to his head.

He could have had this so long ago, he realizes. If he had come on to Madison when they were working so closely, so often spending nights in the same house - would the man have accepted? Would it have changed their course? Madison and Jefferson had been together then, he knows, they’d been close for so many years. He tries halfheartedly to work out the timeline of events, before giving up and filing it away for later.

James moans, and the sound of it drags a memory out of hiding. Often, he’d spent the night in Madison’s guest room, or stayed up writing long after James had retired to bed, caught up in his own ideas. He knows that moan - a groan of pain, it had seemed to him, a restless night, a cough.

“Did you -” His voice catches in his throat, overcome with the realization. He spins James around, keeping them chest to chest. The man looks a bit startled, understandably, at Alex’s sudden change in tone. “When we worked together, when I stayed at your home in New York… you touched yourself?”

James’ gaze falls to Alexander’s neck, not meeting his eye. “I - yes, sometimes,” he admits. “Thomas had been away for so long, I needed some relief.”

“It clears your mind,” Alex repeats distantly, something James had said to him that first night. He snaps back to, stepping backwards and clutching James’ arms. “Tell me what you thought about.”

For once, James seems genuinely flustered. “What?” he wheezes.

“What were you thinking about? You touched yourself, _knowing_ I was close by. Were you using your fingers? A… a phallus?”

James chokes, his face growing hotter. “I don’t - I didn’t own a phallus. Not then. Thomas --”

“Sent you one,” Thomas interrupts. Alex glances over to him, catching his grin. “You were getting so many packages from me, who would notice one more French _distraction_?”

“Was later,” James mumbles, hiding a smile. “I thought about you coming home suddenly and finding me, taking me in a fit of passion, desperate to see me and - and to touch me again.” Realizing it must be easier to address Thomas, Alex lets him continue. “Or wanting me so badly -” He breaks off into a chuckle. “Like the first night you came home.” He doesn’t elaborate.

“I’d been practicing.” Thomas winks, a silent conversation that Alex would _really_ love the details to sometime.

Hamilton barrels ahead. “If I’d come in - then, when I heard you - if I’d known, would you have let me in?”

James freezes, locking eyes with Thomas. “I - no, I was…”

Alexander rushes to reassure him. “Imagine that didn’t matter. Picture you had some way of knowing Thomas would be alright with it. Would you?”

Thomas’ own anxious expression softens into a grin. “Well, would you?” he asks, exaggerating his drawl and dropping his voice low. “Would you, Jemmy, would you have spread your legs for him as easily as you did for me?” Despite being the one tied up on the floor, Thomas’ voice takes on a dominant tone. Alex steps in closer to nuzzle at James’ neck.

With his eyes still fixed on Thomas, kneeling, naked and bound, James seems to be having some sort of personal revelation. A few moments pass, and Alexander is almost about to break the silence and pass on from the subject of conversation, when James speaks.

“I… yes, I would.” Suddenly those deep brown eyes are back on Alexander. “Yes, you’d come into my room all fire and fluster, demanding to know what I was doing. You never take your _time,_ Alexander. Maybe you’d…” He strokes his hands across Alexander’s sides, making him shiver. “You’d press down upon me, and shove the sheets aside, to see just how absolutely needy I was.”

“I’d take you with my mouth,” Alexander jumps in. James is breathing hard, clutching him tighter, and it’s obvious the effect the fantasy is having on all three of them. “I wanted to taste you, from the first time I saw you - with Thomas,” he quickly corrects.

Chuckling, James pushes away, making Alex groan at the loss of heat. “You’d better get the oil before I change my mind and decide you’re fucking me,” he teases. Alexander nearly trips over himself reaching the bedside table where they’d stored it. When he turns back around, James has seated himself regally on one of the armchairs, murmuring something down to Thomas. Alex returns to them, holding out the bottle. James takes it from him, and Alexander straddles the man’s legs, finding some angle only mildly uncomfortable, his calves pressed against the arms of the chair. He braces his hands against James’ shoulders, pausing for a moment. Both men are breathing hard, and Alexander is so close that their cocks brush together, making him huff.

James fumbles around Alexander, uncorking the bottle and dropping a good amount onto his palm. He rubs his hands together, coating them and being sure the leave a generous amount on his fingers. Alex shifts a little, not entirely sure what he’s obligated to do in this situation. Luckily, James seems to take the lead, settling one hand firmly on his hip and dropping the other one to trail underneath, sliding his fingers against the cleft of Alexander’s ass. He shifts the hand on Alex’s hip back around to grab at his rear - Alex is sure his isn’t as plump as James’, wonders if he knows just how beautiful he is - and then his train of thought is lost as James’ slick fingers bump up against his asshole. He twitches reflexively, which only serves to draw the tip of it closer into him. Alex tries to relax, knows he has to, but it’s hard to do when his thighs are straining to hold him up.

“Open up for me,” James murmurs, encouraging him. “It’ll be easier with more practice.”

 _Damn._ Even such a simple phrase makes him shudder - _practice_ . He knows he’s here for this, one wild summer-long fling, but it seems as though he’s only now realizing that this will happen _again_ and _again_ and _again_. Images flash through his mind of being taken: from James, from Thomas, from behind on the bed and over the table and on his back and just like this, riding them. It certainly won’t be the only way it’ll happen, he knows, wants to bury himself deep into James again, to finally flip Thomas over and pound the smug smile off his face - to watch the two together.

Alex’s eyes flutter, his head hanging, and he realizes that one thick finger is already inside him, pressing gently, massaging his muscles. Being caught up in the fantasies must have distracted him, relaxed him enough to let him in. James doesn’t even seem to be aiming for his prostate, only carefully working the muscles loose in ways Alex is unused to. It’s no less strange a sensation this time than it was the last, perhaps strange in different ways because of the new angle and James’ short, soft fingers rather than Thomas’ deep, determined touch. When he had taken it from Thomas, he’d been able to distract himself with James’ cock in his mouth. So he decides on a similar plan and leans forward to press his mouth against James, drawing him into a deep kiss.

James seems rather torn between trying to make the kiss enjoyable and pressing a second urgent finger at Alex’s hole. Alex tries to push down against him, but winces at the stretch. James is stroking his side gently, pouring honeyed words into his ear.

“You’re doing so well, you’re so tight, I almost didn’t believe it, oh god, beautiful, beautiful, what a good boy,” he whispers, and from behind him Alex hears Thomas groan. For a moment, he cranes his head to look behind him, catching sight of Thomas, still bound, his cock swollen but restricted by the rope. Thomas looks almost as if he’s the one being fingered open, eyes half-lidded and chest heaving. His lips are parted, a hint of pink tongue behind them.

James is still mumbling to Alex when he turns back, settling into the tender touch.

“Mmm, please,” Alex moans, desperate to get James inside him, despite the pain. With practice, it would be easier, like any exercise, with practice his thighs would stop twinging, he wouldn’t require such a gentle hand.

“Patience,” James insists, but he chokes on the word. Drawing his fingers out, he rubs his hand, transferring more oil onto his fingers. The next stretch burns, and Alexander grits his teeth before he reminds himself to relax again. His head drops, and he has a fantastic view of James’ cock, already dripping with the sheen of precum despite not being touched. The fingers move inside him, trying to work more give into the muscle, and bump up against his prostate. Alex groans, grinding his hips down against them, trying to shift and get more pleasure.

“Give it to him, James,” Thomas pants, but James only snaps back “patience” again. It doesn’t deter the man, however.

“Tell him - Alex, darlin’, tell him how much you need him, he loves it, can’t resist it.”

Alex laughs, sputtering a bit as he tries to get his thoughts together enough to come up with a coherent fantasy. “I need you, James, come on, fuck me, fuck me hard, aren’t you jealous that Thomas got me first?”

Laughing at Alexander’s babbling, James nevertheless speeds up the movement of his hand, thrusting hard into him. “Should I be, _whore_? I knew you’d go for the biggest cock first. Alexander Hamilton, never one to back down from a challenge.”

Alex winces at the use of the word, although the rest of it was tantalizing. “Don’t call me that,” he whispers, trying not to break the mood. James’ response is to lean forward, pressing a quick kiss to Alexander’s lips. It’s a reassurance in itself, and Alex relaxes into it. “Please, James,” he whispers again.

“You feel ready?”

“He looks damn ready too,” Thomas calls, and James gives Alex’s rear a swat before easing his fingers out.

James raises his eyebrows at Alex. “I’m gonna go hard,” he warns. As an aside, he adds, “as long as I can, anyway.”

Mumbling something to the affirmative, Alex reaches down, taking the lead in positioning himself above James’ cock. He can feel the head, angles himself again, and breathes out, pushing down onto him. For a moment, James’ eyes fall closed, obviously just as affected as Alexander is.

He was right in that James is thicker than Thomas, but what he hadn’t realized was that every sensation was amplified at that level. James’ cock sliding into him feels like such a _stretch_ that he’s honestly glad it’s not as long. Settling down, his knees pressed tight against James’ thighs, Alex lets himself breathe for a moment, rocking gently and drawing a moan out of the both of them.

“God, I want to touch you,” Thomas rumbles, his voice heavy with lust.

Suddenly, James shoves his hips up, punctuating an aggressive “ _mine._ ” Alex never would have seen himself liking the idea of being tied down to someone, but the simple possessiveness of the statement sends shockwaves of heat through his body. He lifts himself up, intending to ride the other man’s cock, but James grabs his thighs, holding him in place and fucking roughly up into him. James had promised _hard_ , but the pace was sure to take a toll on the both of them - Alex can feel a familiar coiling near his gut already. He grips hard on James’ shoulder, trying to steady himself, and reaches down to tug at his own cock with the other hand.

For a normally rather stoic public figure, sex seemed to open the floodgates for Madison’s words. As Alex clutches at him, riding through the waves, James gives him a steady stream of encouragement and dirty talk, stopping only to catch his breath and huff. “You’re so tight, christ, you’re so good, oh god, Alexander,” is the majority of it.

Alexander feels a deep wave of lust run through him, and he tilts his head back. “James, I’m gonna, I’m -”

James interrupts him, abruptly grabbing Alex’s wrist and dragging it away from his cock. “No, you’re not. Not yet.” He slows his pace as Alex whines in frustration. He’s _so damn close_ , he might be able to come just from James thrusting into him, wasn’t that what the man had asked for a few nights ago?

Squirming, Alex tries to push down harder, to find the right angle that will let him get release, but James’ lip quirks in frustration. With a sigh, he wraps his hand around Alexander’s cock, and presses a tight grip to the base of it. Alex lets out a choked noise, wincing as his hips stutter.

“I said no,” James tells him firmly. “If you can’t handle yourself, I’ll have to do it for you.”

Alex nods, his vision swimming. “I can, I can handle it.” He hears a low chuckle from Thomas.

Releasing him, James shoots him a wicked smile. “Good.” Putting his hands back on Alex’s hips, he lets Alex rock down onto him before speeding up again. Alex keeps his hands on James’ shoulders, clutching until his knuckles turn white. Beneath their heavy breaths, he can hear Thomas behind him, making quiet noises that almost sound like whimpers.

“I wanna touch, James, goddammit,” Thomas growls, but James seems to take no notice of him. “I don’t even care, you look incredible, shit. Please.” His voice breaks, and Alex hesitates, trying to slow down. He catches James’ eye with a worried look, but gets a smile in return.

“If he wants mercy, he knows how to ask for it.” It’s a reminder that, here, James is completely in control, that there’s some nebulous history behind this that’s he’s only just begun to understand. Alexander takes in a heaving breath, shaking with need as he stamps down his orgasm, tensing up.

“Relax.” James slows down, rubbing gentle circles into his hips.

“I can’t,” Alex tells him, flushing at the strain in his voice. “I have to - I can’t do both at once,” he explains.

James grins at this, his eyes gleaming in the fading light from the windows. “Then you’ll have to learn.” He rolls his hips up slowly, but Alex can see how difficult it is for him to maintain such control, as sweat pours down his head.

Thomas’ advice came to him then. _Talk to him_ . _Tell him how much you need it. He can’t resist._

“James, sir -” he begins, and the title alone seems to cause James’ hips to buck. “I need you to fuck me, fuck me hard, you _promised_! Please, I need to come, sir!”

James’ arms are wrapped around him in a moment, clutching them close together. Instead of biting his lip, he latches onto the crook of Alexander’s neck, hard enough to hurt, and thrusts up hard and fast. It doesn’t take long before Alex is coming, riding the sharper deeper pleasures until his head falls forward onto James’ shoulder - James who is still pounding relentlessly, obviously determined to keep Alex in place until he’s done. Alex mumbles a string of “please” and “oh god” and “James” and “come” that might not make much sense, but they definitely have an effect on the man. Only a minute later, the blunt pressure of James’ teeth grows into sharp pain, and he grunts hard, shaking through his orgasm.

They sit together, plastered chest-to-chest as their breathing stabilizes. There is, however, one voice in the room that is still panting hard, shaking with every breath.

“Mercy,” Thomas croaks, and James groans against Alexander’s neck.

“All right. Alex -” He tries to push Alex away, but he’s reluctant to go. Couldn’t he just stay wrapped in James’ warm arms, reeking of sweat and sex?

But Thomas had cried mercy. That must have been what he’d meant, when James had told him that _if Thomas wants mercy, he’ll ask for it._ And Alexander finds himself coming down quickly from his high, the temptation to stay overwhelmed by the oversensitivity of _don’t touch me_. Shifting his hips up, he slides off of Madison’s cock, shoving off of his chest. His thighs ache from the strain of holding them apart for so long, and he stumbles over to the bed, sitting heavily on it. James gives him a bit of a lost look, then turns to Thomas, kneeling down next to him and whispering soothing words into his ear.

“I almost worried you were gonna leave me like this,” Thomas jokes. It’s incredible to see him so needy, to hear the tightness in his voice, turned into a shaking mess on the floor without even being touched. Caressing his skin, James works open the knots tying him down, and when his cock is finally released Thomas’ head drops in relief. Setting aside the white ropes, James pulls Thomas into a tender kiss.

“What do you need?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and it sends a shiver through Alex’s body.

“I just need -” For a moment, Thomas’ eyes flick up to Alexander, then focus back on his partner. “I need to come.”

James nods, shuffling so he can reach the oil where he’d set it aside. He drips a bit directly onto Thomas’ cock and the man twitches, inhaling. Pressing his lips to Thomas’ neck and holding his side with one hand, James strokes him off in sharp, quick movements. Thomas grits his teeth, coming hard into James’ hand. Immediately, he pulls James into a heated kiss, nipping at his lips.

“My god,” he finally speaks, when he’s caught his breath.

James smiles genuinely, looking back at where Alexander is reclining on the bed. “Thank you both.” It’s a strange sentiment, Alex thinks, but it makes something in his chest swell. He laughs it off.

“Why, _Mister Madison_ , I never knew you were into that sort of thing,” he teases, clutching a hand to his chest. James wrinkles his nose at him, chuckling.

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again sometime.”

Thomas shifts, making a pained face. “My legs are asleep.” He throws out a hand, and James helps him up and over to sit on the bed. Thomas stretches, seeming to pop each joint from head to toe. The movement presses a lewd groan out of his chest. He stomps his feet aggressively, trying to get the feeling back into them.

“I can’t imagine how that could be hot.” Alex shakes his head, bemused. “You don’t get to _do_ anything.”

“Mmm, that’s the fun of it.” He reaches one arm around Alex’s shoulder, pulling him into a quick kiss. “How are you?”

“Sore, but not as sore as you must be. How is it fun not being able to participate?”

Thomas tilts his head back, nodding at Madison when he asks if there was water left from supper. Throwing on a robe, the short man trundles down the staircase, leaving the two of them alone.

“I don’t know.” He hums thoughtfully at Alex’s question. “It increases the desire. Haven’t you ever had to wait on something, and sometimes the waiting is sweeter than the goal?”

“No,” Alex replies bluntly. “I’ve had to wait and work hard all my life to get what I want. Why should sex be like that?”

Thomas shrugs, falling back on the bed with his arms behind his head, his long legs still dangling off the side. “Then I don’t know how to answer you. Maybe I just like it when my -- James is in control.”

“‘Your’ James?” Alex lays next to him, propping himself up on one elbow. “Didn’t seem much like ‘yours’ this evening.”

Thomas grins lazily, brushing him off with a wave of his hand. “ _You_ seemed like _his_ , that’s for damn sure. What the hell was up with all that ‘sir’ talk anyways?”

“It just felt right. He sure liked it.”

“Do you ever have a reason for the shit you do, Alexander?”

He frowns, eyebrows twitching together. It seemed as though the question was deeper than that, an argument they’ve been having for half a year. “Of course I do. I know what my principles are. I know what I stand for. I have reasons for everything I do.”

“Oh, give it up. I’m not questioning your damn principles.” They pause, sitting in comfortable silence for a moment, just looking at each other. Alex feels the sweat beginning to dry and prickle on his skin.

“What the hell was that with the - the whole ‘no’ thing anyways?” Alex wonders aloud, and Thomas snorts.

“Where do you think I got my stamina from? I’m well-trained.” He winks slyly.

“I suppose I thought it was just harder to come with a bigger dick.”

This earns him a sharp laugh. “That would explain some, _racehorse_.”

“Don’t try me, asshole.”

“Do I have to gag the both of you?” Madison stands at the top of the stairs, one hand on his hip, the other clutching a bucket of water. Alex’s “no!” and Thomas’ “please” overlap, making him laugh.

They clean quickly, shivering in the cooling evening air. This time, James lets him clean himself up, apparently having learned from before that he’s… uncomfortable with someone treating him that way. Alex doesn’t really know _why_ he’s so uncomfortable with it. He’s never liked being patronized or coddled, or maybe it just feels far too tender, like a lover’s touch rather than a good fuck. Whatever it is, his idea of “after” is better suited to curling up in a blanket by the low fire, Thomas insisting on a rematch of their chess game even after Alexander had whooped him heartily the last time.

James still kisses him before they go to bed, pressing his lips to Alex’s cheek before huffing out the candle. They end up sandwiching the shorter man in a tangle of limbs and body heat. Alexander finds himself unexpectedly put out by the loss of his central position, but it’s obvious Thomas wants to hold James close after the intensity of their earlier… something.

Something. That’s what this was. Just… something. Something that James and Thomas had, that Alexander feels he’s only known the tip of.

Even the acknowledgement of something so simple weighs heavily on his mind through half the night, before he finally manages to doze off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this chapter basically DOUBLED the word count! Also, I don't think shibari (the rope bondage I pictured) is historically accurate, but it's GOOD, and who's to say people wouldn't have experimented with some fancy ropework now and then? ;)  
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos, I love hearing that people are enjoying this and it makes me want to do more.  
> \--  
> Edit Dec 5  
> I'm getting used to a more demanding work schedule, so my writing's slowed down quite a lot, but I'm still working on the next chapter, and don't plan on abandoning this. I've just got quite a lot going on!


End file.
